


Dexter Grif and the Cycle

by ShyChangling



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Abuse, Abuse of Authority, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Cycle of Abuse, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Internalized Fatphobia, Other, implied ships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:28:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23899741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShyChangling/pseuds/ShyChangling
Summary: Grif hated Matthews. Hated the little too happy for his own good kiss ass. He hates him all the more knowing Bitters and Matthews have that Grif never did.
Relationships: Antoine Bitters/Matthews, Dexter Grif/Matthews
Comments: 5
Kudos: 5





	Dexter Grif and the Cycle

**Author's Note:**

> Remember the Cycle Must Break?
> 
> I do. And I wanted to explore a much darker angle of it. Please be safe reading. I wanted to see how things could of gone and I am very sorry.

When Grif is introduced to his subordinates. He noticed two things.That Bitters was silent, lazy with tired eyes. While Matthews was too loud, chipper and eager to please.

And it pissed him off. But he couldn’t pin precisely why. So he simply accepted the fact that he would hate Matthews.

At least Bitters had a personality.

\--

Matthews comes into his room with food. If there was one good thing about Matthews though was how utterly good he was at cooking, stealing food and how willing he was to pass it up over to Grif.

Standing there waiting for the praise. The thank you. Even a simple nod.

But Grif says nothing, taking a bite into an egg salad. Shooing Matthews away with his hand.

“Actually, sir. I was wondering about today’s schedule! I was hoping you’d let me join in training and we-”

Grif groans and sets the salad aside. “Not now. Not when I’m eating.” He needs his routine. It's the only thing holding him together right now. Only thing keeping him sane.

He only has Simmons left and Simmons is so busy trying not to kill himself over being in charge of an all women's team that Grif is left to his own devices.

And turns being left to that while being in charge of people. Telling them what to do is not as easy as it looks. Especially when there’s a goody two shoes brat who won’t shut up about wanting to be included in training.

He keeps eating. And looks over seeing Matthews' strained smile. With that chubby face of his he looks like a smacked child.

Grif puts down his food and groans. “Fine, know what. Sure. You can train today. I’ll make a course just for you but you have to put it together yourself.”

Matthews bounces on his heels. “Thank you sir!”

“Now get out of here so I can eat.”

\--

Matthews waits at the training course Grif had told him to wait at. He stands patiently. Diligently. Waiting on orders and how to put together his course.

It's two hours by the time Matthews realizes Grif might not be coming. Still he stands and by the third hour, Bitters comes to collect him.

“Come on, Maddie. It's time to rest.”

“But the captain said he was going to let me train.”

Bitters looks at him. Why did Captain Grif leave Matthews out of everything.

“You were at the wrong spot, Matthews. We were training on the other side of the base.” Why not correct Matthews on the training location.

Was this a test? Matthews certainly thinks so. After all, Bitters will likely tell Grif all about how he stood with such ease. 

Bitters is sure Grif just didn’t want to deal with him.

\--

Grif groans as he finds Matthews again at his room. He opens the door peeking outside. And there’s god damn fucking Maddiline Matthews. With coffee and sweets. 

Grif opens the door fully. In his underwear. Staring unamused at Matthews. “What do you want, god. Do you know what time it is?” Still though, Grif takes the coffee and sweets from him.

Matthews bounces on his heels again. “I wanted to talk about yesterday!”

Grif freezes taking a bite into the pastry.

“I know why you didn’t correct my location, sir. And it's brilliant.” 

Grif contorts his face into something of a sick displeasure.

“The course was for me to get the proper location of our training! I failed, I know! But it's so obvious now.” Matthews looks at the ground with a smile then gazes up in a bounce of his heels at Grif. “So if we tried again. I’ll be much more confident in finding out where we’re training!”

Grif glares down at him. He’s not sure where his thoughts went. But takes the pastry and smears it onto Matthews face. “That’s not at all what that was, stop being fucking obtus with me. I know you’re smarter than this. Fucking act it!”

Matthews tenses, the saliva from the bitten piece of pastry and the sticky sugar blur on his face. Smearing, mixing and Matthews shuts his eyes tight. But he doesn’t move.

“Quite pretending you’re some idiot kid. I KNOW you know why I’m leaving you out of training. Get it through your head.”

Grif takes his hand away and puts it down by his side. Taking time to drink from the cup of too sweet coffee. Just like this stupid kid here.

This damn kiss ass needed to realize the fuck kind of person he was. And Grif was gonna make sure he’d get this kid to see it and fix himself. He’s too smart to be acting like this, he’s not even bantering, or making snide comments. He’s just agreeing to everything Grif says and dammit.

Grif wanted to murder him. This smart fat fuck of a soldier didn’t deserve anything good while acting like sucking up to the boss will make the world go easy on him.

Matthews stands there frozen in place. He then slowly starts to wipe the breading off his face. He looks up to Grif with a confused hurt expression. “Are you mad at me?”

“Am I… Of course I am! Stop stating the obvious.” Grif shuts the door on him and goes back to his bed.

Sitting silently there. In the absence of his team. In the absence of Simmons, who was all that wasn’t captured. But was too busy being a fucked up misogynist with a literal fear of women to care about Grif’s waning mental health.

Grif hears sobbing outside his door. “Go away.” Grif shouts at the door. 

What did the kid think sobbing would make Grif open the door and say sorry? 

People don’t apologize to others for things that are obvious. You don’t say sorry for hurt feelings. This is the real world, this is real war.

Even in a fake standoff. No one says sorry.

Grif missed the normalcy. But at least now he’s in charge. Even if being in charge sucks and takes too much energy to do anything.

He can’t focus. He wants his routine back. He wants to sit with Simmons under the tree back at the Gulch and complain about the awful plot twists in his favorite childhood movies. He wants to ride with Simmons reenacting dangerous stunts from tv shows in the warthog.

But he can’t have that can he. He can’t even have one normalcy back and that would be being able to hang one on one with Simmons.

\--

Grif though eventually leaves to find the locker rooms, with a shirt and shorts thrown on himself and his undersuit under his arm. It's too early for anyone to be up and yet here he is. Unable to get back to sleep because of the coffee and now he’s stuck with a gnawing guilt in his gut over Matthews.

Really why should he care. No one gave a shit about him. Matthews was annoying and attention seeking.

He groans silently hearing sobbing. Of course Matthews is in here. He turns to leave. But he hears another voice that causes him to pause and carefully look closer.

\--

Bitters sits with Matthews in his arms. Petting his hair and giving comforts when needed. “You probably should tell me why you’re upset. Before anyone comes in you know?” He says not wanting Matthews to become embarrassed for crying. Crying was something Palomo did over everything and no one wanted to be compared to that.

Grif watches from a corner. A gutted knot in his stomach turns. Waiting for Matthews to speak and turn Bitters against him. But.. all that happens is.. Matthews shaking his head.

“I just got really sad suddenly. I don’t know why.”

Bitters pets his head and nuzzles into his hair. “Its okay. I know it happens to you alot.”

Grif feels angry. So the kid’s such a suck up he’ll not even try and manipulate people against him.

Sickening.

Grif would have turned to look away by then. Leave and come back after traffic sets in and claim he slept in. Pretend he hasn’t changed over anything going on here.

But.. as he stares in anger. It grows worse.

Bitters has tilted Matthews chin up. Kissing away the tears. Then settles a kiss on Matthews lips. Causing Matthews to giggle and laugh through it. Kissing deeper. Bodies moving into more comfortable positions.

Pressing to one another. Hands gripping into shoulders. Whispering things Grif’s too far away to hear.

Grif feels his stomach react. His body chilled in a shiver. Watching them make out unaware of his presence. How disgusting it was and yet, that small bit of Grif yearned for something so similar. 

How comfort in a kiss is meaningless and dull. And he watches Bitters who often looks at him with dull tired eyes. Light up in a smile here, pushing Matthews down as they slide off the bench onto the floor.

Matthews is still teary eyed but he’s laughing.

And Grif hated it. Dirtying Bitters like that. Ruining the appeal of Bitters’ tired done attitude.

He needs to keep them separated. And then Bitters can go back to that tired dead look and lazy personality. That personality that Grif finds so soothing and familiar.

And there certainly was one way to make sure Bitters and Matthews stay apart. Grif knocks on the lockers. “Get your act together. Someone’s in here.” Grif says bluntly as he walks out of hiding. Stop it now and end it before it's too late.

The two on the floor scramble to get off eachother. Arms unwinding and scooching far apart from each other. Bitters turns his head away from Grif and Matthews looks down at the floor.

“Matthews.” Grif says. The name lingering a taste on his tongue that reminded him of someone who could not name in this time and place. “You wanted to train right?”

Matthews lifts his head up to him. “Yes sir.” He says with a half chipper tone. Nervous and embarrassed.

“Then get in your armor and start running.” Grif walks to his locker and starts to change. “You won’t stop till I give the okay to stop.”

Bitters looks over to Grif with a raised brow. Standing slowly. “Where exactly is the start and end of the course first, sir.” Bitters says tired and deadpan.

There we go. That’s normalcy again. “You’re doing something else Bitters. Matthews will just be running base for a few hours. You’ll be practicing infiltrations.”

“Right. Course, what else is new..”

Some reason that comment stung, but Grif decides to ignore it.

\--

Grif stands at the start line up he’d bull shit for Matthews to meet back at as he keeps running laps of area. Grif thought maybe it’d be good for Matthews to finally taste what he wanted and force him to understand how uneventful the ordeal was. 

How boring it was. How monotonous and silent with only your gasps for air to fill your ears.

If you were lucky. 

Tucker and Simmons though were growing worried over the foul mood Grif was in. Had been in for a few days.

Tucker approaches him and Grif looks back. Seeing Simmons a good distance away, hand through his hair trying to pin back the mane out of his eyes. Grif snorts. So now they give a shit.

“How long has he been running?”

“Two hours.”

“Think that’s.. Abit too much?”

“He wanted to train so badly, I’m letting him run his energy out.”

Simmons walks forward. “Look. We’re all struggling to figure out how to lead, but Grif don’t you think.. You’re a bit too proactive in this?” Simmons actually isn’t sure how to explain it. 

But then again when Grif doesn’t want to do something he finds wild productive ways out of a work. So maybe this is just him finding a way out of training with the group so he could rest. “You’re gonna make the kid faint.” If he hadn’t already.

“He’s only five minutes late.”

Simmons scrunches his nose. “Grif, seriously what is wrong. You’re keeping track of how long his laps take him and you’ve been weirdly angry these last few days.”

“Dick Simmons, private investigator sniffs out the clues to yet another mystery. Of course I’m pissed. I’m just teaching Matthews to hate work as much as me and Bitters do.”

“Are you seriously upset because you have someone who wants to fucking do their job and train?!” Simmons says flabbergasted. “Is that why you’ve been ignoring me?”

Grif glances over to Simmons. His helmet glares down at him. Oh he wants to pull that card. “Why don’t you go back to crying over your lost childhood or something. That’s all you’ve done since you got to the New Republic and got your team.”

Simmons stands there face twitching. “You want to turn this into a god damn fight, Grif? I’ll turn it into a fight!”

Tucker raises his hands. Oh god why is Red Team so hostile to each other what the fuck. Not like Blue was much better but. “Would you two both shut the fuck up.”

“Don’t you dare try to get in on this blue!” Grif points his hand violently at Tucker. “Don’t either of you tell me how to run my team.”

Matthews finally slows to a walk as he reaches the starting course. Panting loudly and as he reaches the line he’s running in place. Looking to Grif for some kind of sign.

“Fine whatever. You’re finished, go to your locker.”

\--

Bitters is the one who meets Grif at his room early in the morning. With hot coffee and pastries. 

Grif has a light smile on his face. Now this feels alot better. Bitters has that look of tired normalcy. The face is the same always. But the words Bitters says make Grif shut up.

“I want you to stop bullying Matthews.” Bitters is stern in his voice. “I know you’re our captain but before you get your armor on. You’re just some man who crashed on our planet.”

Grif is silent. “What are you talking about, Bitters. You’re cooler than that! You don’t need s- Matthews.”

“I don’t know what your problem is with him, but Matthews has done NOTHING but worship the ground you walk on and obey you. I want you to know I won’t be doing the same.”

Grif holds the pastry in his hand and coffee in another. “I don't’ get what this is then.”

“And you won’t ever know why I brought them, sir. Now if you excuse me. I’m going back to bed.”

\--

The day goes on regularly. Grif puts on his lazy mask and treats the day as if nothing of the last few had happened. No one really says anything to it. Tucker helps Caboose give orders and Simmons. Simmons doesn't say much of anything at all to Grif.

Which Grif pretends doesn’t bug him. He pretends there’s no reason to be angry or that Simmons is purposely avoiding him today for the comments of yesterdays’.

Grif Scrunches his nose and looks at Bitters who is much too cool for Matthews. And then glares a moment watching Matthews cheer Bitters on from the side lines.

He then looks to Simmons and seethes.

\--

At least the Merc, Felix, was willing to point him to something to ease his anxieties. Telling him of some things he could offer or where to find other things.

So Grif takes the advice. He takes the offer and he follows the trail Felix notes is in the back of the food closet.

He finds a collection of drinks after picking into it. Brings to his room bottles and snacks. He’s done, he’s tired. And he hates how thrown off his world has become.

And he certainly wants to blame Simmons for it all.

He drinks down. Getting sloppy and sloppier over time.

There’s knocking on his door. Grif glares at the door and stumbles to his feet bottle in hand. He opens the door.

And there’s Simmons. In the cold of the night fidgeting his hands together then taking one through his hair.

Grif squints his eyes at him. “What you want. It's midnight.”

“I want to say sorry for-” Simmons isn’t sure what he’s sorry for. It just feels like he needs to be sorry even if he isn’t the one doing anything wrong.

Grif snorts and sets the bottle on the ground. “What, feel bad that you were ignoring me all this time?”

Simmons tilts his head. “I don’t know what you’re meaning. Sir, are you drunk?” He asks, finally noticing the bottles.

“And then schum.” Grif laughs and then bucks his arm away as Simmons moves closer. Why’s he so short here. Did Grif forget to take off his armor boots or something..

But Simmons moves into the room. “You shouldn’t be drinking. It's bad for you, especially this late at night.”

“Stop acting like you care.” Grif moves backwards nearly tripping over his feet.

Simmons enters further into the room. “Careful, sir.”

“Stop with the stupid Sirs already. Why you acting so fucking..so fucking.” Grif feels something wrong but he can’t focus his head. “Just shut the door if you’re coming in..” 

Simmons shuts it and turns back looking at him worriedly. Nervously.

“Don’t look at me like that. God I hate it when you look at me like that.”

“I … I’m sorry?”

“Shut up. This whole thing is..It's your fault you know that!?” Grif nearly shouts. Looking at Simmons with disdain. “If you’d just of fucking stayed at Red Base instead of getting all heart struck by Washington!”

“I’m sorry… Washington.. The guy that Captain Tucke-”

“Shut up. Just shut up and stop acting like that stupid little fat ass Matthews.”

But it was him. Matthews stands in the room in its center looking to the door and looks back to his Captain with deep worry. “Maybe you should go to bed…”

“No! I will not! You will not shut me up just cause I’m right! Its not even the first time you screw me over, Simmons.”

Matthews then realizes how deep an issue of trouble he’s in. Grif’s eyes are angry, hazy. He’s drunk and there’s some kind of pill bottle on the counter. “Captain Grif, I’m not.”

“Do you know how much I hate you. It should have been you! You should have gotten every punch and bruise. It should have been you on the other side of Sarge’s shotgun!”

Matthews swallows hard.

“I never did anything! Nothing!”

Grif’s eyes get clearer as Simmons’ image slowly fades. Grif gets angrier by what he sees.

Scared little Matthews. With his arms to his chest. Trembling like a leaf.

“Matthews?” Grif squints his eyes. Trying to focus on who the fuck he’s actually been yelling at. Or even if he cared at all.

Grif holds his head stumbling forward to look better. Grabbing Matthews by his shoulders.

“Why are You here.”

“I just wanted to say sorry,” Matthews is in tears. He’s confused, fragile. Shoved into the door. “I don’t know what any of what you are saying means. But I’m sorry!!”

“I’m sorry!!”

Grif could shoot him. He could shoot him and no one would care. Just like he’d been shot or used and no one ever cared.

He could do anything he wanted and there’d be no one to stop him. Because for once he’s in power. For once he’s in Charge of his very own Grif and Simmons.

And this time. This time the abuse will be on who it belongs too.

But he does nothing. Yet. Drunk and angry. Squeezing Matthews shoulders tight. Leaning forward.

His own Simmons. His head was full of fuzz. And Matthews really like some shitty version of Simmons isn’t he… He leans more.

And Matthews reaches down for the bottle, smashing it over Grif’s head. Backing up and curling into a corner.

It's enough to knock Grif off balance. Fumbled over, head bleeding.

The flash of thought of Sarge over him, gun pointed down. And Grif can do nothing. Bare in his underwear. Overpowered.

Life was not fair. Neither was Sarge. And certainly Grif won’t be either. He stands and looms over Matthews.

\--

And Matthews stands at practice. Chipper with death behind his eyes. Planting fake smiles. Unsure what he’d ever done wrong but he’ll certainly never tell anyone. He hides his bruises under his suite and runs to Captain Grif. Fawning at him.

Because certainly if he’s better, happier and listens. It won’t happen again.

At one time though. Grif thought the same thing about Sarge. Funny isn’t it.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh man. This has been a rough month. And my fics all this week seem to reflect that. I'm okay! I'm just getting out all the hurt.


End file.
